


Last stop Inn

by Lieju



Category: Gaston (Bande Dessinée), Spirou et Fantasio
Genre: M/M, Mystery, halloween fic, pretty light on romance tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:50:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lieju/pseuds/Lieju
Summary: Prunelle arrives to a mysterious inn in the middle of nowhere. It soon becomes obvious there is something very wrong with the place. Guests disappear, the mists surrounding the house seems to trap him there, and the innkeeper Gaston seems to keep secrets...





	

 

 

 

Prunelle wasn't sure how long he had been walking in the mist that had seemingly come from nowhere, but it was a relief to see the light.

 

It seemed like an ordinary house at a first glance, a gray and worn down building that looked like it might have been painted in some colour once.

Prunelle stared at the worn plaque with the word 'INN' etched on it.

 

Well, beggars couldn't be choosers, and it was just for a night.

And it did feel comfortingly solid in the dull mist surrounding everything.

 

He stepped in.

 

To his relief the inn was far comfier inside.

He walked to the reception desk, which failed to get any reaction whatsoever from the young man sleeping in his chair behind it.

 

So Prunelle rang the bell, and the receptionist opened his eyes. "Mmhuh?"

 

"I'll need a room for the night," Prunelle told him.

He would have continued, but he could hear the door opening behind him, and turned to look.

 

An older businessman and a young woman.

They looked familiar somehow, but Prunelle couldn't put his finger to it.

 

The man looked around. "So, this is an inn?" He gave Prunelle a nod. "There was a problem with our train, so we had to-"

 

Of course, they had been in the same train Prunelle had.

"Me too," he told them.

 

Prunelle turned to the receptionist who was now more awake. "A room for the night. How much is it?"

 

"There's more of you?" The young man gave them a wave. "Hi. I'm Gaston."

 

The girl stepped forward. "Jeanne. Oh, I'm feeling tired!"

 

The door opened again, this time letting in a couple who introduced themselves as Yves and Aimée Lebrac. 

 

"Oh, there's not this many people usually, at the same time," Gaston told them. "You're all from the train?"

 

The businessman, Mr Demesmaeker stepped forward. "I trust you have enough rooms?"

 

"Yea, I guess?"

 

The door opened again, and two men, similar-looking enough that it wasn't a surprise when they introduced themselves as brothers, Jef and Bertje, stepped in.

 

Gaston sighed. "This many people? I think there's room for everyone though. I guess some of you will share?"

 

He took the keys hanging behind him. "Come with me."

 

The group followed him upstairs.

"So, Mister Gaston," Jeanne decided to make conversation, "Do you take care of this inn all by yourself?"

 

"Mostly, yea. There were other people before but they left."

 

"It must be lonely."

 

"I got Kitty. He wanders in the inn by the way. And there are the guests."

 

He gestured at the door. "So, you wanna take this one or... They're all pretty much the same."

 

Prunelle closed the door behind him, relieved to finally set down his luggage.

Hopefully they'd be able to catch another train tomorrow, or a replacement bus. But now that he had a place to sleep he didn't feel as tired as he had thought, so he decided to have a little walk.

The inn seemed old and worn-down, but well-kept. Although it could have used more dusting and sweeping. There wasn't much to see, the guest rooms were upstairs, and in downstairs the dinner room was empty and the door to what presumably were the innkeeper's personal quarters was closed.

 

Prunelle was just about to return to his room when he heard an angry voice.

"What do you mean you won't?"

Mr Demesmaeker.

 

"I mean, that there's no phone," Gaston told him.

 

"What? I need to call them I'll be late! I have very important business-"

 

Prunelle stepped in. "There's a phone."

 

The two men looked at him.

Prunelle wondered what the odd look Gaston had given him was all about. Annoyance?

 

"There's a phone behind the desk," Prunelle pointed out. "I happened to catch a glimpse of it."

 

Gaston lifted the rotary phone on the table with a sour look on his face.

"It doesn't work."

 

Demesmaeker took the receiver. "It sounds like-"

 

He stopped.

 

"What?"

 

The businessman slammed the receiver down. "This is-"

 

"Are you okay?" Prunelle asked. "You look like you just saw a ghost-"

 

"Nevermind!" And with that the now pale-as-a-sheet businessman stormed off.

 

"I told him it doesn't work."

 

Prunelle turned to see the phone had disappeared, presumably back behind the counter.

"What was that all about?"

 

Gaston shrugged. "Dunno."

 

* * *

 

 

Prunelle lay down on the bed, deciding not to undress for the night.

 

He was suddenly feeling very uneasy.

He could hear muffled speaking, and an odd sound, like little feet. Or crackling.

Like fire-

He sat up, certain he had smelled something-

 

"FIRE!" Called a feminine voice.

 

And when Prunelle stepped into the hallway he almost collided with Miss Jeanne.

"Fire?"

 

"There was fire!" she yelled. "And the noise!"

 

"What noise?" one of the brothers, maybe Bertje, asked.

 

"That horrible, metallic, loud sound! I had almost fallen asleep-" Jeanne stopped. "You didn't hear it? You must have!"

 

"I smelled smoke, though," Prunelle told her. Not that he could smell it now. Or see fire anywhere...

 

The Lebracs had appeared as well and the group moved downstairs. But no sign of either smoke or fire.

 

But- "Where's Mister Demesmaeker?" Prunelle asked.

 

"He left."

Prunelle turned to see the innkeeper who had apparently appeared from his personal apartment.

 

"He left?"

 

Gaston nodded. "Yea. Was busy with business or stuff."

 

Prunelle glanced at the hooks where the keys had hung behind the counter.

So, where was the key?

 

Maybe Gaston had just lost it or hadn't put it back yet...

 

The crowd started to move towards their rooms.

 

But Prunelle's uneasiness just grew.

And he couldn't help noticing Aimée was crying, looking shocked and leaning on her husband.

Prunelle almost asked her what was wrong, but in the end stayed silent.

 

So in his room, he took his chair and sat next to the door.

He could hear a woman crying, Mrs Lebrac, presumably. And someone moving in the hallway, sobbing, followed by a muffled conversation downstairs...

 

He stayed like this, sitting his back against the door, until the morning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Calling it morning was misleading.

 

The mist refused to clear, and only the slight light peeking through the clouds above revealed it was no longer night.

 

So Prunelle walked downstairs.

"Morning."

 

Gaston, who had been napping behind the counter opened his eye. "M'rning," he mumbled.

 

Prunelle made a note on how a key had appeared behind him.

Was he getting paranoid?

Maybe it was the stress, the badly-slept night...

 

The rest of the guests walked downstairs and they were led to the dining room.

 

"Where are the Lebracs?" Prunelle asked.

 

"They left," Gaston told him, "Woke up before you."

 

Prunelle remembered how distraught she had seemed, and how the muffled conversation could have been between her and Gaston...

 

He stood up. "I have to go."

He glanced at the toast and eggs, suddenly nauseous.

 

"Yeh, sure," Gaston told him, and turned back towards Jeanne. "So, did you happen to have any magazines or books with you? That I could borrow? I don't often get new ones-"

 

To Prunelle's relief, he didn't come after him, and after getting his luggage and leaving the key and an amount of money he hoped was enough on the desk, he almost ran out.

 

After walking a moment aimlessly in the mist he started to feel silly.

What, was he seriously thinking Gaston was murdering travellers?

 

He kept walking, until it occurred to him he had no idea where he was going.

There was no road, and apart from being somewhere in the woods, he had no idea-

 

And it was getting dark again.

So it was a relief when he saw light. But when he realized it was the same inn again, he just stopped.

 

He had been sure he had walked straight...

 

Cautiously, he stepped in.

 

"Mmhuh?"

Gaston lifted his head, looking surprised. "You're _back_?"

 

"I got lost."

 

"So you gonna stay the night?"

 

Prunelle nodded. "Am I the only one?"

 

"Yea, everyone already left." Gaston smiled. "It's just the two of us."

 

* * *

 

 

This night, Prunelle slept restlessly after blocking the door with a chair.

 

He was haunted by chaotic nightmares of steel monstrosities that breathed fire and moved with metallic cacophony. Eventually he stood up, deciding what little sleep he had gotten had been enough.

 

He should have gotten away before, to catch his train.

But he couldn't really remember where he had been going.

Prunelle yawned, blaming his sleepy mind.

 

And did it really matter?

 

He tensed at the sound of something moving behind his door, and stayed put until whatever it had been moved away.

 

Maybe it was the cat? He had spotted the black-and-white feline skulking around the inn.

Yes, that must have been it.

 

He was getting paranoid.

 

But he could smell gasoline and fire again. What if it was some kind of poisonous gas?

Carefully, he opened the door. The hallway was deserted.

 

He sneaked out, and to downstairs.

The reception area was empty as well.

 

Prunelle glanced around guiltily and reached over the desk.

It was a mess of papers and various knick-knacks, but he could also spot the rotary phone.

 

He reached for it, and lifted it on the desk.

 

And brought the receiver to his ear.

 

Static.

 

He strained his hearing. He could almost hear a mumbling sound within the noise.

 

"Hello?" He tried.

 

"—on."

 

Prunelle froze.

 

But the voice repeated through the static, clearer this time:

"Léon."

 

"What are you doing?"

 

Prunelle turned around, dropping the phone on the floor in the process.

He watched Gaston pick it up. "Phuh, you could have broken it. Not that it really works to begin wi-"

 

"It was mom," Prunelle interrupted. "It was my mother."

 

"You called your mom? Was she-"

 

"She has been dead for years."

 

There was no look of surprise on Gaston's face.

 

So Prunelle turned and dashed out of the door, escaping into the mist.

 

 

* * *

 

Prunelle stepped inside to the inn.

 

"Hello," Gaston told him, lifting his gaze from a comic book he was reading.

 

Prunelle nodded, trying to remember what he had been thinking just seconds prior.

He frowned at the hairs innkeepers cat was leaving on his trousers, rubbing himself against his legs.

 

"Didn't catch your train?" Gaston asked.

 

That was it, he had been trying to do that. Not that it suddenly mattered all that much.

And the inn was pleasantly warm, so it was nice to be back.

"No."

 

"A room for the night?" the younger man asked.

 

Prunelle was just about to nod when he could hear a noise from upstairs.

 

"You're not the only one tonight," Gaston told him. "But I got your old room ready."

 

Prunelle reached to take the key. "Really? Who is it?"

 

"A police officer or something like that. A bit annoying actually, nothing but complaining."

 

"Hm."

 

* * *

 

Prunelle woke up to an angry screaming.

 

It took him a while to get up.

He hoped he wouldn't have chosen this night to undress and wear his pyjamas.

 

He opened the door to the hallway and was greeted with the sight of an unknown man pushing Gaston against the wall, screaming bloody murder.

 

Prunelle pulled him away from Gaston. "Rogntudjuu, what is going on here!?"

 

The man stopped struggling, and pushed Prunelle's hands away.

"He attacked an officer!"

 

"Please, calm down," Prunelle told him.

 

"Who are you? Are you in this with them?" the man demanded to know.

 

"Them? I'm just a guest here. Léon Prunelle."

 

This seemed to calm him down at least. "Joseph Longtarin." He pointed at Gaston. "He is with them! They came at me with a gun!"

 

"You must be mista-"

 

Longtarin froze, staring at Prunelle. "What are you?"

 

"What?"

 

Longtarin stumbled away, suddenly terrified. "You are-"

 

"Phuh, you are over-reacting!" Gaston stepped between them.

 

"Don't you come near me!"

Maybe it was a trick of light, but for a second Prunelle could have sworn he had seen blood on Longtarin's shirt.

 

But before he could be certain, the man stormed off and locked himself to his room.

 

"Are you okay?" Prunelle asked the innkeeper.

 

"Yea, he was just being a bit, you know."

 

"Will you be fine?"

 

"Mmhuh? Sure." Gaston smiled. "He won't be for long, he was already-" He stopped. "Try to get some sleep?"

 

Prunelle nodded, deciding to take the suggestion. "Good night."

 

* * *

 

 

The morning came, and when Prunelle stepped downstairs, Gaston greeted him with a smile. "Hi."

 

"Morning. I guess Mr Longtarin didn't give you any more trouble?"

 

"No, he just left actually."

An odd look passed on Gaston's face. "Are _you_ leaving?"

 

"I have to catch my train," Prunelle told him.

 

"Of course." Gaston looked like he was about to say something else, but held his tongue.

"So, bye, I guess?"

 

Prunelle nodded. "Bye."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Prunelle stepped inside into the inn, and was greeted with a warm smile from the receptionist. "Prunelle! You're back."

 

Prunelle nodded. "Yes."

 

He blinked, certain that something was wrong.

 

"So, couldn't catch the train?" Gaston asked.

 

"No, I-" Prunelle frowned. "This is not the first time. That I have come here."

 

Gaston gave him a nervous look. "Well, you travel a lot, and-"

 

"Where's my luggage?"

 

"You travel light?" Gaston stepped to him. "It's fine."

 

But Prunelle was more and more certain something was wrong. "My train-"

 

Gaston took his hand. "You can catch your train tomorrow. Just sleep the night and-"

 

"I remember being on the train."

 

Gaston stared at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

 

Prunelle continued, having a feeling he was finally arriving to a conclusion that had eluded him for too long. "I was on the train. And there was an accident. I can remember the sound of crashing and that there was fire-"

 

He lifted his arm in front of himself. He watched, oddly detached, as he could see the skin of his hand blackening and burning, flesh melting.

 

He blinked and the vision disappeared.

 

But the odd certainty didn't.

 

"I died, didn't I?"

 

Gaston nodded.

 

"What is this place?"

 

He shrugged. "I dunno. I just work here. Fantasio, he used to run this place before me, didn't know for sure either, but he thought this was a place where people who had died violent deaths came to rest before they were ready to move on or something. They realize they're dead and move on."

 

"And you? What are you?"

 

"I just fell asleep in my flat and then woke up in the mist outside." He nodded towards his cat who was sitting on the counter. "Me and Kitty. In hindsight maybe I should have gotten that oven fixed when I first noticed it was leaking gas..."

 

Prunelle turned to look at the door leading outside. It seemed different now. More final somehow.

"What will happen to me if I leave?"

 

"I dunno. Fantasio eventually left, said he wanted to know. People leave and-"

 

He grasped Prunelle's hand. "And you're the only one who has come back."

 

"How many times?" He could remember now, leaving the inn and returning again and again, unable to find his way forward.

"It's sort of difficult to tell with the time, but I do have some idea because the magazines and stuff the guests bring with them. So I think you have been coming to the inn for 20 years. Sometimes after one night, but lately... This time I thought you might not come back. It's been years."

 

They were interrupted by the door opening, and a woman stepping in. Gaston went to talk to the woman introducing herself as Sonia, while Prunelle stared. Now that he knew, he could peer behind her image, seeing her face bloodied.

"My car seemed to have a malfunction," she was explaining to Gaston.

 

Prunelle could guess what had actually happened, but remained silent and waited until she had left for her room.

 

"I feel... different." There was clarity now that he knew what had happened. And he could remember the times he had talked with Gaston, the discussions they had had, now realizing he had told him the same things many times.

 

"Are you gonna leave?" Gaston asked.

 

Prunelle stepped to him. Well, he didn't exactly have anything to lose.

 

So he reached into a kiss, which was clumsily returned.

Prunelle broke the kiss but stayed close to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmness of his skin.

He felt alive.

Prunelle pulled back to look at the hopeful face of the younger man.

 

And smiled. "Would you happen to need help in running the place?"

 

Gaston grinned and hugged him. "Yea, I would."

 


End file.
